


just like the moon is a stone

by sundays



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, College, Condoms, Financial Issues, Harvard Era, Identity Reveal, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Royalty, Sexual Content, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-12-28 18:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundays/pseuds/sundays
Summary: Harvard student Mark Zuckerberg thinks his biggest problem is trying to make ends meet with a shitty minimum-wage job.Then he accidentally gets pregnant by a guy who turns out to be a prince.





	1. $1.62

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on [**this prompt**](https://tsnkinks.dreamwidth.org/1679.html?thread=22671#cmt22671) from the [new tsn kinkmeme](https://tsnkinks.dreamwidth.org/1679.html).
> 
> **warnings:** omegaverse, mpreg, financial issues

It's the morning of the second day of spring break, and Mark Zuckerberg is lying in bed in his suite at Kirkland, thinking about money.

He's probably one of the only people in the building right now— Students have to vacate the dorms during school breaks. That is, unless they receive prior permission from the dean to stay, on the basis of something like the fact that they can't afford to take a vacation from their shitty minimum-wage job near campus. Which is Mark's situation.

The thing is, due to spring break, the dining halls are closed for the next week. And when basically the only thing keeping you from starving is the fact that your Harvard scholarship includes three meals a day at said dining halls— well. Therein lies Mark's current dilemma.

It's not that he doesn't have _anything_ to eat— He's got a loaf of white bread, a four-pack of canned tuna, and a jar of peanut butter. It's just that sometimes his life feels like a word problem in a second-grade math book.

_Mark's last paycheck was $234.75. He's already sent $200 home to his mother, spent $24.99 on heat suppressants, and bought $8.14 dollars' worth of groceries. How much money does he have left?_

The answer is $1.62.

But he's okay. It sucks, but he'll survive.

He always fucking does.

***

Mark sighs and checks his watch. It's 8:30 AM. His shift starts in 15 minutes. He gets dressed and eats breakfast (his fourth peanut butter sandwich in two days), then grabs his backpack and heads off to his job.

***

Mark works at a store about a block from campus called Sockdolager. It sells socks, literally just socks, and everything about its existence is as idiotic as it sounds.

Business is slow today, probably because of spring break. The hours drag by. Mark leans on the counter by the cash register, thinking about theFacebook, his fingers itching work on it. He makes notes on a piece of blank receipt paper, writes out some snippets of code.

He wants to put the finishing touches on status updates today, when he gets off from work. Which is in— he checks his watch— fifteen minutes.

Then the bell at the door chimes, and in walks an alpha in a suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! comment or leave a kudos to make my day!!


	2. eduardo

Mark scrunches his nose a little as he's hit with a wave of the alpha's scent— rich and heady and almost mineral-y; Mark is too lazy to try to pinpoint the specifics.

The alpha, for his part, glances around briefly at the wall-to-wall rows of socks, then makes his way over to the counter and smiles warmly at Mark. 

"You sell socks, right?" he asks.

Mark blinks slowly, resisting the urge to respond with something that could get him fired.

"I mean obviously you do. Sorry." The alpha laughs and touches his tie. "I was just— I'm looking for dress socks? If you have any?"

Mark points to the corner of the store.

"Thanks," says the alpha, smiling again, and he makes his way over to the section of the wall where the men's dress socks hang. He grabs a few packs, barely seeming to look at them, and returns to the counter.

"Will that be all?" Mark asks flatly.

"For today, yeah." The guy smiles for the third time in as many minutes, and Mark looks away and scans the first pack of socks. $29.99 for three pairs, shit.

"So have you worked here a long time?" the guy asks, as Mark rings up the transaction.

Mark isn't sure how that's relevant to anything. "A while," he says, without looking up.

"Is it fun? I think if I worked here I wouldn't be able to resist buying like, a million different crazy pairs of socks. Do you have, like, a whole drawer full?"

"No," says Mark. "Waste of money." He scans the second pack of socks and presses a button on the screen. "Your total is 59.98."

The alpha doesn't even blink at the price, just takes out his wallet and swipes his card. "Your name's Mark?" he asks, meeting Mark's eye as the payment processes.

Mark frowns.

"Sorry," the alpha says quickly. "Just. I saw your name tag? Uh. I'm Eduardo."

Mark doesn't give a fuck, to be honest. He bags Eduardo's socks shoves the bag across the counter. "And your receipt," he adds, holding it out.

Eduardo takes it, but shows no sign of leaving. "Are you a student?" he asks.

Mark squints at him.

"At Harvard?" Eduardo clarifies unnecessarily.

Mark shrugs, then nods. He wishes the guy would just leave; his smell is starting to give Mark a headache.

Eduardo's face lights up. "Me too!" he says. "That's awesome."

"It's awesome?" Mark repeats tonelessly.

"Well, you know. It's cool. Everyone I know went home for break; it's terrible. It's only the second day and I'm bored out of my mind."

"So you decided to buy some overpriced socks."

Eduardo blushes. "I guess so," he says, with an embarrassed little laugh. He meets Mark's eye, like he wants Mark to laugh along, but Mark just stares at him.

He's not altogether bad-looking, Mark decides after a moment's reflection. He's got fluffy hair and big brown eyes and his cheeks get all round when he smiles. It's kind of— endearing, or something. 

Even his smell isn't exactly _bad_, just strong.

"Anyway, I'll go then," says Eduardo quietly. "Goodbye, Mark." He grabs his plastic bag and turns to leave. Then he stops, and swivels back around. "I'm sorry," he says, a note of desperation in his voice. "I'm sorry if this is too forward, but when you get off work, you wouldn't want to go out for drinks, would you? Or lunch?" There's a pause. "My treat?"

And Mark isn't stupid enough to pass up the offer of free food, not even from an alpha who just spent $60 on socks. "Lunch," he says, too quickly. Then he shrugs. "Lunch would... be alright," he amends, with what he hopes sounds like disinterest.

Eduardo just beams, his eyes crinkling happily in a way that makes Mark's chest sort of— flutter? 

"My shift ends in a few minutes," he says, with another shrug. "If you want to wait."

"Yeah, I can wait!" Eduardo nods earnestly. "Take your time!"

So Mark goes back to his scrap of receipt paper and starts working on a list of what he wants to finish coding for theFacebook this week, while Eduardo peruses the multitude of garishly-patterned socks for sale. 

"What year are you?" he asks.

"Sophomore," mutters Mark.

"I'm a junior."

Mark doesn't reply. He wonders if he could get away with calling part of a profile that houses status updates "the Wall." Maybe friends could post messages there too.

"What's your major?" asks Eduardo, who seems uncomfortable with silence.

"Computer science."

"I'm studying Economics."

Yeah, Mark's gonna call it the Wall. Eduardo is still talking, he realizes.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just asked if you've ever been tempted to buy these socks with Bill Gates's face on them."

"What?"

"As a computer science major?"

Mark blinks at him.

"I'm just... joking?" says Eduardo weakly.

Mark is spared the ordeal of having to respond by the arrival of his idiot coworker Bobby. Mark times out, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and slips out from behind the register.

Eduardo is still standing by the socks, shifting his weight from foot to foot, smiling. "Are you ready?" he asks.

Mark nods, and they leave the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	3. thai food

"Have you ever been to Thailand before?" Eduardo asks conversationally.  


They're sitting in a Thai restaurant of Eduardo's choosing, waiting for their food to arrive.

Mark blinks. "No," he says. He's never even been on an airplane.

"It's a nice country," Eduardo muses. "I went there when I was like ten, with my father. He had to go there once for—" He hesitates. "—for fun. Anyway. Do you travel much?"

"No."

"Do you want to? Someday? Like, after college?"

Mark shrugs.

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to—"

"Do you always ask your dates this many questions?" Mark cuts in.

Eduardo blushes. "Sorry. Shit. No, I was just—"

"California."

Eduardo looks confused.

"If I could go anywhere in the world," Mark clarifies, "I'd go to California."

"Like Jed Clampett?"

Mark stares at him.

"You know, _The Beverly Hillbillies_?" prompts Eduardo. "'California is the place you ought to be'?"

"That show is from the sixties," Mark says.

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't make it any less quotable, does it?"

Mark squints at him for a moment, considering this. "Okay," he allows at last, which seems to amuse Eduardo, who smiles, his eyes dancing.

Mark glances away, feeling almost— pleased?— to have made Eduardo smile like that. He thinks, offhandedly, that he might like to kiss that smile someday, but he doesn't have time to examine the feeling before a waiter arrives with their plates of food: pad thai for Mark ($13.99) and something with shrimp and clear-colored noodles for Eduardo.

Eduardo picks up his chopsticks and begins to eat with a strange amount of elegance, Mark thinks— almost like a cartoon version of outrageously proper etiquette.

Discretely, Mark removes his elbows from the table and tries to make sense of his chopsticks.

Eduardo doesn't seem to be paying attention. "So what do you do in your spare time?" he asks.

"Coding," Mark answers immediately. He gives up on the chopsticks and stabs at a piece of egg with his fork. And then, shrugging, "I'm working on a website," he says.

Eduardo's eyes light up in interest. "What kind of website?"

"It's... a social networking site," says Mark.

And with that, he tells Eduardo about theFacebook— tells him everything from its inception till now, along with his plans for its future. And Eduardo listens. Not like Chris or Dustin or Billy, who obviously just listen in a perfunctory way, out of a sense of obligation, always wondering when Mark will finally shut up. No, Eduardo listens like he's genuinely fascinated, though Mark's not sure why he would be, seeing as they only met like forty-five minutes ago. But still. It's kind of— nice. To feel heard.

***

They finish lunch.

Eduardo pays for the food, and as they leave the restaurant, he asks if Mark wants ice cream. Mark shakes his head, but Eduardo insists.

"My treat?" he says, his eyes earnest.

So they get ice cream from some ritzy ice cream parlor: rocky road for Mark and vanilla bean for Eduardo, $4.99 per scoop.

For a while they walk through Harvard Square, eating their ice cream and talking about school and theFacebook and nothing in particular.

Then: "Do you want to come to my dorm?" Mark asks suddenly, as he throws away his empty ice cream cup. "I could show you theFacebook."

"Sure! Yeah, definitely, that would— that sounds great. Yeah." Eduardo grins.

Mark smiles back, a bit sheepishly, and they head to Kirkland.

***

Back in his suite, Mark sits down at his desk and gets out his laptop and pulls up the homepage. "So here's this," he says. "That would be the first thing you see, prompting you to log in or register."

"Shit," says Eduardo, looking over his shoulder. "That looks really good."

Mark nods. "I know." He clicks a few times. "And here's what a profile would look like."

Eduardo leans in a bit closer, and Mark is hit with a wave of his scent, earthy and strong, like a cliff by the ocean, and a sidewalk after rain, and maybe freshly-tilled soil—

Mark twists around and kisses him. He feels Eduardo smile against his lips for a fraction of a second before he starts to kiss back, his fingers resting lightly on Mark's cheek. They pull apart, and Mark stands up, folds his arms around Eduardo. Then they kiss again, more deeply this time.

"You smell good," Mark breathes.

"So do you," says Eduardo.

They kiss all the way to Mark's bed, and together, they collapse onto the mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment! :) and thanks to everyone who's left kudos so far; it really means a lot!


	4. condoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** sexual content

Eduardo shrugs off his blazer and straddles Mark's lap as they continue to kiss, open-mouthed. Soon Mark's dick is hard, and he's leaking slick, and fuck, is it normal to be this turned on just from kissing someone while fully clothed? 

Mark lets out a whine, and Eduardo sort of starts grinding against him, like he wants more. And, well, Mark wants more too. Except he isn't entirely sure what the protocol is in these situations, seeing as the entirety of his past sexual experience consists of one blowjob given to him by a female beta in the bathroom of an AEPi party freshman year. So—

"Do we fuck now?" he asks Eduardo.

Eduardo opens his eyes, pulls back a little. "I— Uh, yeah, it's fine with me," he says breathlessly, sounding flustered. "I mean— yes, definitely, Jesus— I mean." He frowns. "Do you _want_ to?"

"Yes," says Mark, which feels like an understatement. "Do you have a condom?"

Eduardo's eyes widen. "Shit," he says. "No, I didn't—"

"It's fine," shrugs Mark, lightly pushing Eduardo aside and standing up. His underwear is wet with slick. "I'm sure one of my roommates has one."

He goes to Chris's nightstand first, on a whim, and opens the top drawer. Sure enough, he's met with a myriad of condoms and lube.

"Okay," he says to Eduardo. "He's an alpha so he's got plenty of alpha condoms, but how big is your dick?" He glances up.

Eduardo is seated on the edge of Mark's bed, his cheeks bright pink. "Uh. Big? I guess?" he says weakly.

"Would 'standard' be too small?"

"Maybe. Probably? I can try it though," Eduardo offers.

"Well, can you use beta condoms? He's got larges of those."

Eduardo nods quickly. "Yeah," he says. "Sure, yeah, I don't see why not."

So Mark grabs a couple of size large beta condoms and rejoins Eduardo on the bed. "Here," he says, setting the condoms down between them. Then he pulls off his hoodie and t-shirt, and starts unbuttoning his jeans.

Eduardo is staring at him.

"What?" asks Mark. "People are generally naked when they fuck, right?"

"No, yeah, right. Sorry, I just," Eduardo swallows and looks away. "You're really, um. Attractive."

"Oh." Mark's not sure how to respond to that. He's never been called attractive before, as far as he can remember. He pulls off his jeans and his slick-covered underwear, then crosses his arms, suddenly a little self-conscious. "Listen, full disclosure, I haven't actually done this before," he admits.

Eduardo glances over, blinks down at Mark's dick, then averts his gaze. "What, had sex?" he asks, removing his button-down.

"Yeah, should have mentioned that earlier?" Mark asks, frowning, letting his eyes rove over Eduardo's bare chest. He wants to touch it, to kiss it.

"No," says Eduardo, as he kicks his black slacks off. "No, it's fine, don't worry. I've only done it once with a guy, and it was pretty... I didn't know what I was doing. But we'll figure it out." He shoots Mark a brief smile, then takes off his boxers and shifts a bit, as if trying to hide his erection. But he can't, because— well, because it's fucking huge.

Mark stares, and Eduardo blushes as he picks up a condom and tears open the wrapper. He quickly rolls it onto his dick.

"Does it fit?" Mark asks, still sort of in awe.

"Yeah," nods Eduardo.

Mark doesn't know what else to say, and for a moment they sit there side-by-side in silence, glancing at each other shyly, both of them naked and hard. Mark can feel slick seeping into the bedsheets under his ass, which— shit, he can't afford to do laundry for another two weeks—

But then, suddenly, Eduardo leans in and cups Mark's face in his hands. "Come here," he says, kissing him desperately.

And Mark forgets all about laundry money. He closes his eyes, sinks back against his pillow, and breathes in Eduardo's deep, earthy scent.

"Are you ready?" says Eduardo.

"I'm ready," says Mark.

***

And they fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i know this one is short; more to come soon!


	5. knotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning:** sexual content, knotting

Eventually Eduardo knots him, and it's the hottest thing Mark's ever felt in his life. They lie there, knotted together, making out, for what feels like a very long time, but Mark enjoys every minute of it.

Then, just as the knot's swelling begins to go down, Eduardo pulls out, takes off his condom— and stares down at it.

"Shit," he says under his breath. "Shit, shit, shit, shit—"

And suddenly, he's got a finger up Mark's asshole.

"What are you doing?" Mark demands, frowning.

"The condom broke," says Eduardo.

"What?"

"The condom _broke_, Mark; come could've—"

"You're trying to get the _come_ out of me?" Mark sits up, so his ass is no longer accessible.

"Mark—" Eduardo pleads.

"Are you, like, delusional?" Mark asks brusquely. "Do you know how small sperm is? Do you really think you can remove it with your bare hands?"

"No, but— What if you get pregnant?" says Eduardo in a weak voice.

"I'm not gonna get pregnant," Mark snaps. "I'm not even in heat; my fertility is like, next to zero. You didn't feel it break?"

"I felt something, when I was knotting you, but I didn't think it was—" He shakes his head. "Fuck, Mark, I am so fucking sorry."

"Why, do you have an STD?" Mark asks.

Eduardo's eyes get huge. "No!" he says. "No, I swear—"

"Good," says Mark. "Me neither. So it's fine."

He leans forward and presses his lips to Eduardo's. Eduardo goes stiff for a moment, then melts into the kiss.

"I should've known better," Eduardo says against Mark's mouth. "I should've known not to use a beta condom; I guess they aren't made to handle knots—"

"Eduardo," says Mark firmly. "Shut up and kiss."

So they keep kissing, and kissing, and kissing, until Mark is out of breath and has to come up for air.

"You want to go out for dinner?" Eduardo asks then, in a rush.

"Dinner?"

"Yeah. Not— not now; I mean, like, when it's dinner time?"

"Do people usually go on more than one date per day?" Mark asks, smirking a little.

"No, not usually," says Eduardo, smiling back. He shrugs. "But sometimes, like maybe after they've just had the best sex of their life." He brushes a curl off Mark's forehead, a gesture that Mark would normally find patronizing but which seems ridiculously endearing when Eduardo does it.

"You pay," Mark says, crossing his arms.

"Jesus, yeah, of course!" says Eduardo. "My treat."

"Okay." Mark nods. "Then yeah. Dinner would be good."

Eduardo grins, and Mark lies back down in the bed, settling against Eduardo's body. He inhales Eduardo's scent— seaside cliffs and wet pavement and rainy days— and sighs. It's a peaceful, grounding scent, Mark thinks, as it permeates his lungs. He scoots closer to Eduardo.

And he can't remember the last time he felt like this— like... calm. Protected. Safe.

So he closes his eyes, and savors it, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i know this is super short lol, but i hope you still enjoyed! please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts!! :)


	6. pizza

They go out for dinner at a pizzeria where a personal pizza costs $10.99.

"You know that cheap restaurants exist too, right?" Mark asks as they wait in line to order.

"What?" says Eduardo, looking genuinely confused.

Mark shakes his head. "Nothing," he mutters. "Never mind."

Eduardo smiles bemusedly and Mark averts his eyes. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, don't bite the hand that feeds you, etc., etc. If Eduardo wants to waste his money on Mark, then whatever. Mark doesn't have to like it, but he's not really in any position to question it.

(And maybe that's part of what bothers him so much.)

***

"So for theFacebook, you said it would be Harvard first, right? How soon would you let other schools join?" Eduardo asks as he takes a bite of his margherita pizza.

Mark launches into an explanation of his plans for eventual expansion, and then Eduardo asks, very innocently, "So when do you think it'll go live?"

Mark shrugs, fiddling with a microscopic hole in the hem of his hoodie. "It's not really the right time yet."

"It seems like you have it all ready to go, don't you?" says Eduardo.

Mark shrugs again. "I guess."

"So what are you waiting for?"

Mark takes a deep breath, and says, "Money."

"Money?"

"Yeah. I'm broke as fuck."

"Oh," says Eduardo, softly.

"And it costs money to rent servers; it costs money to buy a domain name; everything fucking costs money."

Eduardo nods slowly, his brow slightly furrowed, like this is something he doesn't consider very often. "How much money?" he asks then.

"A lot."

"Can you give me a ballpark number?"

Mark sighs. "A thousand dollars, maybe?" 

"Mark, that's not much!" says Eduardo immediately, almost chidingly.

Mark crosses his arms, torn between humiliation and anger. "Okay, well, sorry," he says, as evenly as he can, "but I have less than two dollars to my name right now, so." He glares down at his half-eaten mushroom pizza.

A few moments of strained silence pass.

"Hey," says Eduardo at last. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to— I just meant, I can pay it. A thousand dollars. Or two thousand, or— whatever you need. I wasn't trying to— Shit. I'm really sorry."

Mark frowns. "You've known me for one day."

"So?"

"So, why the fuck would you give a thousand dollars to a guy you've only known for one day?"

"Why wouldn't I?" asks Eduardo, his voice gentle. "I really like you, Mark. And I really like theFacebook. And I have the money."

_I have the money._ He says it so casually. "You're, like, rich as fuck, aren't you?" Mark asks, but it's not really a question.

Eduardo gives him an embarrassed little smile. "Sort of?"

"Yeah, I can tell," says Mark. He pauses, then adds, "I'll think about it."

Eduardo nods, like he understands, though of course he doesn't really. Mark nibbles at his pizza, feeling uncomfortable, fully aware that if a thousand dollars were ever to fall into his lap, he'd be an asshole not to send the money home to his mother and sisters, but... Well, Eduardo isn't offering him money to send home, he's offering him money for theFacebook. And fuck, the thought of theFacebook being a live, functioning website...

For the rest of the meal, he lets Eduardo talk. He learns that Eduardo speaks Portuguese and likes meteorology and is good at chess. He files these facts away in his mind like he actually cares, because, to his slight surprise, he finds that he does. He cares. Which is sort of a strange but not-unpleasant feeling.

***

They finish dinner and Eduardo walks Mark back to Kirkland. The campus is deserted and the air is brisk.

"What's your phone number?" asks Eduardo, as they reach Kirkland and start up the front steps.

And maybe against his better judgment, Mark gives it to him. "But only for emergencies," he says, pointing. "Don't waste my minutes."

"I won't," Eduardo tells him.

"I'm serious. I have thirty minutes per month. And text messages cost me twenty cents to send or receive."

Eduardo nods. "Only for emergencies, got it."

"Okay. Good," Mark says with a frown.

They come to a stop outside Kirkland's glass doors, and stand there for a moment, staring at each other.

Then they kiss.

"Thank you," Eduardo says, as they separate. He ghosts his finger down Mark's cheek. "For today."

Mark shrugs, pretty sure that he should be the one thanking Eduardo, not the other way around. "Yeah," he says stiffly. "Thanks."

Eduardo smiles, his finger lingering on Mark's cheek. "I'll see you around, okay?" he says.

Mark nods. "Yeah. I'll see you."

They kiss again, and say good bye, and then Eduardo heads down the steps, waving over his shoulder.

Mark watches until he's just a tiny figure in the distance, but he can still smell him on the air: the scent of ocean spray and cliffside moss and something he can't quite put his finger on. 

And somehow it makes him feel warm inside, despite the chilly evening. 

He inhales deeply, smiles a little, and enters his dorm for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!! please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts :)


	7. bedtime

Back in his suite, Mark works on theFacebook for hours. He finds himself uncharacteristically distracted— the thought of Eduardo's abnormally-large brown eyes keeps coming to mind, for example— but he still manages to get status updates mostly sorted out.

Before long it's 4 AM, and he can't really justify staying up any later.

Sleep is, in Mark's opinion, an annoying waste of time, and the fact that he needs like four hours of it to function is an ongoing source of frustration for him.

But he isn't an idiot, and he doesn't want to oversleep for his 9 AM shift tomorrow, so he closes his laptop and showers and brushes his teeth, then places a towel over the half-dry slick on his sheets and gets into bed.

***

Except he can't sleep.

He lost his virginity today, which should probably feel like a big deal, but it doesn't, not really.

What _does_ feel like a big deal is Eduardo, with his impeccable manners and warm smile and impressively large dick. 

A dick large enough to rip a condom, Mark thinks offhandedly. He'd kind of forgotten about that, and it makes him feel uneasy to remember, though he's not sure why. Neither he nor Eduardo have any STDs, and— well, as Mark had said at the time, he's not in heat, so it's not like there's any real chance that he's pregnant. 

Of course it would be nice if he were a beta and could take Plan B, just to be certain, but there's no such thing as Plan B for omegas, just like there's no such thing as hormonal birth control for omegas, or federal laws to protect omegas from discrimination, or—

Anyway. Society doesn't give a shit about omegas, which sucks, but Mark is _not_ pregnant. He's sure of it.

And his mind drifts back to Eduardo, to his offer of a thousand dollars to get theFacebook up and running.

Mark knows he'd be an idiot not to say yes; it's not as though he'll ever be able to save up a thousand dollars on his own. But the idea of being in Eduardo's debt like that... fuck. Mark already feels like shit for being thirty dollars in his debt. He can't imagine what one _thousand_ and thirty would feel like.

But the way Eduardo had offered... without any hesitation, without any stipulations. Like he just genuinely wanted to see theFacebook succeed. And like he wouldn't miss the money at all.

It's really fucking tempting.

Mark sighs in the darkness. He doesn't have to decide right away, he tells himself. He doesn't even know when he'll see Eduardo next. Probably not for a while. They didn't exchange email addresses or anything; all Eduardo has is Mark's cell number and firm instructions not to call unless it's an emergency.

But fuck, Mark doesn't want to wait to see him. He hopes that, somehow, they manage to meet up again soon.

***

And the next day, Mark gets his wish: 

When he arrives at work at 8:45 AM, Eduardo is waiting outside, dressed in a suit, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol this fic has such inconsistent chapter lengths. more to come soon, i hope! please leave a kudos/comment/bookmark if you're enjoying. it would really mean everything to me!


	8. unicorns

"Eduardo," says Mark, coming to a halt as Eduardo stands up outside the shop. "How long have you been waiting here?"

Eduardo just shrugs, which makes Mark think that the answer is _a while_.

"What if I didn't open today?" Mark asks, frowning.

Another shrug. "Then I would have asked whoever did open when you'd be working next."

"We're not supposed to tell people other employees' schedules," says Mark, unlocking the door of the shop.

Eduardo smiles. "I would have begged," he says. "I can be persuasive when I want to be."

Mark scoffs at that, but his chest feels warm at the thought of Eduardo begging for his schedule. "Come on," he says, jerking his head toward the shop. "Come inside; I need to clock in." He reaches to pull open the door, but before he has a chance, Eduardo takes him in his arms and kisses him.

And fuck, he smells so good, and he tastes even better, and Mark kisses back eagerly, hungrily.

"I missed you," Eduardo says against his lips.

"It's only been like seven hours since we saw each other last," Mark feels the need to point out.

Eduardo laughs, and they pull apart. 

Mark opens the door to the shop and together they step inside. "But yeah," Mark admits with a shrug, as he re-locks the door. He turns to face Eduardo. "I missed you too."

He feels shy, but Eduardo just beams at him

And then, suddenly, they're kissing again. 

"I really have to time in," says Mark, but he doesn't stop kissing.

"Where?" asks Eduardo.

"Back room," Mark says.

And they kiss all the way there.

***

Mark times in, turns on the lights, and starts the mind-numbing music, while Eduardo follows him around like an excited puppy.

"Now what?" he asks, as Mark fills the cash register.

"Now we wait till 9, then unlock the door and try not to die of boredom," says Mark. He closes the cash drawer and leans forward on the counter, his eyes fixed on Eduardo's hair, the way it sticks up at the front. He'd like to run his fingers through it; it looks soft.

"Does the store ever get busy?" Eduardo asks.

"No," says Mark. "Especially not during spring break."

Eduardo nods thoughtfully, and goes back to perusing the multitude of colorful socks on the wall. "What do you think of these chicken ones?" he asks, holding up a pair.

Mark rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious!" says Eduardo with a smile. "I want to buy some new socks and I need your input!"

"They're all ridiculous," says Mark. "That's my input."

"Okay, but like, if you could have any pair of socks in this store— and you can't say none of them— which would you pick?" asks Eduardo.

"I don't need new socks."

"Mark," Eduardo wheedles. "Please?" He sticks out his lower lip and his eyes go all big, and fuck, he'd been right when he'd said he could be persuasive.

So Mark sighs, leaves the counter, and approaches the wall of brightly-patterned socks. Cynically, he takes stock of the options: marijuana leaves, apples, monkeys, palm trees, llamas, jelly beans, stripes, donuts...

"These ones," he says at last, indicating a pair of purple socks with unicorns on them.

Eduardo tilts his head to the side, questioning.

"For my little sister," Mark shrugs. "It's her birthday next week." He ghosts his finger over one of the unicorn's manes, then shrugs again. "But there'd be no point in getting them," he says, anticipating Eduardo's offer. "It's not like I can afford the price of shipping. And my mom would ask me why I'm wasting money on a stupid pair of socks."

Eduardo frowns. "I could pay for shipping."

"No," says Mark. "I'll get her something when my next paycheck comes in. It's fine."

"You could get her the socks too. I'll pay for the socks, and you can pay for—"

"Eduardo," Mark says sharply. "I said it's fine."

Eduardo presses his lips together and nods. "Okay."

"Sorry," Mark mutters after a moment.

"Don't apologize," says Eduardo, with an expression far too close to pity for Mark's liking.

So Mark turns away, changes the subject. "I worked on theFacebook last night," he says, spinning a display of shoelaces. "So I'm mostly finished coding statuses. After that I'll need to put the finishing touches on the masthead and then it'll be ready to go live."

He glances at Eduardo, who, to Mark's relief, makes no mention of his offer from yesterday, just asks: "And after it goes live will you keep adding features?"

"Yes, definitely," says Mark right away. He explains about the chat functionality that he hopes to implement at some point, and photo tagging, and invite-only groups. 

Eduardo listens as attentively as always, nodding along, occasionally asking questions.

(And eventually, Mark sort of forgets about those dumb unicorn socks.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! more to come soon! comments mean the world to me. :)


	9. spring break

Mark only works for three hours today, which is bad for his bank account but good for his sanity. He hardly gets any customers, but the time passes quickly with Eduardo there, and before long his shift ends and his coworker Christy arrives to take over.

"Sorry I'm late," she says, breezing through the door at 12:03. Then she comes to a stop, apparently noticing Eduardo. "Hi," she tells him, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a way that's probably meant to be flirtatious. "I'm Christy."

To Mark's satisfaction, Eduardo seems uninterested, even uncomfortable, at her attention. "Uh. Hi. I'm— I'm with Mark," he mumbles.

Which earns Mark a surprised look from Christy.

Mark rolls his eyes, clocks out, and grabs his backpack. "Bye Christy," he says, without sparing her a glance. He heads for the door and Eduardo hurries after him gratefully.

As they leave the shop, Eduardo links his arm with Mark's. 

And Mark feels his stomach flutter, the words _I'm with Mark_ still echoing in his head.

***

They eat lunch at McDonald's, at Mark's suggestion.

"The first American fast food I ever had was from McDonald's, my freshman year," Eduardo tells him, taking a bite of his hamburger.

Mark frowns. "Are... you not American?"

"No," says Eduardo. "I'm from, um." He swallows his current bite. "I'm from Brazil. I'm just in the United States for college."

Mark considers this. "What's it like in Brazil?" he asks, unsure what else to say.

"It's fine," says Eduardo, with a note of finality in his voice, like he doesn't really want to talk about it.

So they talk about other things instead. And Mark marvels a little at how effortless conversations feel with Eduardo. Because, although Mark's never been hesitant about talking to people, he's never been good at, like, actually _conversing_— never seen much point in social niceties like listening to boring people's thoughts and asking questions when he doesn't give a fuck about the answers.

With Eduardo, though, the give and take of conversation is easy. Because Eduardo is smart, maybe even as smart as Mark, and he's interesting, and Mark actually wants to hear what he has to say. It's a refreshing change.

Once they finish their burgers, they head to Kirkland. Eduardo flops down on the couch and pulls a textbook out of his book-bag, while Mark sits down at his desk and pulls up theFacebook.

"Sorry if it smells like slick in here," Mark says after a few minutes of silence, uncomfortably aware of the scent. "I haven't washed my sheets yet."

"Oh," says Eduardo, looking up from his book. "I— I don't smell anything."

He's obviously lying. "I would wash them but I don't have any quarters," Mark feels the need to tell him, for some reason. "Or any money to get quarters, so."

"Oh," Eduardo says again, more softly this time. "If you want, uh, I have a washer and dryer in my apartment. If you want to do a load of laundry there," he offers.

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course," says Eduardo, with a small smile. "I'd be honored."

"Honored?" Mark repeats.

Eduardo smiles. "Very honored."

Mark scoffs slightly, but agrees to the offer. He strips his bed and shoves the sheets into his laundry bag, along with some dirty towels, and they take the bus to Eduardo's apartment. 

Eduardo pays for Mark's fare.

"I'm not usually this broke," Mark mutters, as they sit down toward the back of the bus. "Usually I do have money for bus fare and laundry and shit." He glances at Eduardo, who says nothing, just takes Mark's hand and squeezes it gently.

"So I'll pay you back," Mark tells him. "For the bus."

Eduardo hesitates, like he wants to argue. But then, to Mark's relief, he just says, "I know."

And Mark rests his head on Eduardo's shoulder, and they ride in comfortable silence.

***

Eduardo's apartment is in one of the newer apartment buildings in Cambridge, the kind with endless amenities and exorbitant rents.

It's a one-bedroom apartment, smaller than Mark's Kirkland suite but larger than the apartment Mark grew up in with five other people.

"I never have guests over," says Eduardo. "Sorry it's messy."

It's not very messy, but Mark can see some t-shirts draped over an armchair, evidence that Eduardo does not in fact wear suits 24/7. Which is nice to see.

Eduardo shows Mark to the washing machine and Mark puts in his load of sheets and towels. And then they kiss, right in front of the washer, which feels ridiculous and right at the same time.

"Thanks," Mark mumbles.

Eduardo runs a hand through Mark's hair and tells him, "Any time."

And they return to the living room, collapse down on the couch, and kiss some more.

***

Mark sleeps over. He hadn't really intended to, but they spend the afternoon watching The _Godfather_ trilogy, and then they order pizza delivery, and Eduardo puts on _Lost _re-runs while they eat, and soon it's almost midnight.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" asks Eduardo.

"No," yawns Mark. "My day off."

Eduardo smiles, and Mark scoots nearer to him, and they keep watching TV. And eventually Mark falls asleep without meaning to, nestled against Eduardo.

***

They spend the entirety of the next day together.

In fact, as spring break passes, Mark and Eduardo spend every waking minute of _every_ day together, including the time that Mark is at work. And when he's not at work, they relax in Mark's dorm room, they cuddle at Eduardo's apartment, they take walks around Cambridge, they go out to eat about a million times.

They're both still too spooked by the broken condom incident to have, like, actual sex again, but they do make out constantly, and there are occasional blowjobs, and lots of touching.

It's funny, because Mark's someone who usually doesn't even like hugs, but he finds that he can't keep his hands off Eduardo, can't resist snuggling up beside him on the couch as they sit there watching shitty TV together, can't help but kiss him every chance he gets.

***

Eduardo doesn't seem to have any other friends, it occurs to Mark at some point, which is strange, because even Mark has friends. And Eduardo is handsome and funny and smart and generous and generally seems like the kind of person who would attract ten times more friends than someone like Mark.

When Mark asks him about it, one evening at Eduardo's apartment, Eduardo shrugs. "I guess I've never been very good at making friends," he says.

"Why not?"

"I don't know." Eduardo shifts a little. "I was homeschooled my whole life. I never hung out with many people my age, except my cousins sometimes."

"You were homeschooled?"

Eduardo nods. "It was lonely," he admits. "And so was Harvard, until I met you."

Mark's not sure how to respond.

Eduardo nudges his shoulder. "So I'm glad I met you," he says, smiling.

"Yeah. Me too," Mark tells him. And he means it with all his heart.

***

The last day of spring break rolls around, and Mark and Eduardo go out to dinner at a fancy Chinese restaurant.

"So are we, like— dating?" Mark asks offhandedly, after they've placed their orders. It's sort of a stupid question, because this is like their fourteenth date this week; of course they're _dating_.

But Eduardo doesn't answer right away. He bites his lip, watching as Mark pours two packets of sugar into his tea. "Mark," he says at last, quietly. "There are things you don't know about me."

Mark frowns. "Like what?"

"Just— things."

"Important things?"

"You could say that."

"Tell me," Mark demands.

"I don't know, I don't really think..." Eduardo trails off.

Mark's frown deepens. This conversation is not going the way he'd intended. "You're not, like, bonded, are you?" he asks, though he thinks he'd be able to smell it if he were.

"No. No, I'm not bonded," Eduardo says. He takes a deep breath. "But— Okay, look, remember how I said I'm from Brazil?"

"Yes."

"I'm not. I'm from— it's a really small country, south of Brazil."

"What, Cordomar?"

Eduardo looks surprised. "You've heard of it?"

"Yeah, like, in passing." Mark shrugs.

"Well. That's where I'm from."

Mark squints at him, not sure he's understanding. "That's it? You lied about which Portuguese-speaking South American country you're from?"

"Yes," says Eduardo. "And—" He gives Mark a brief, desperate glance, then lowers his eyes. "And also I'm a prince."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh. ;) thanks for reading!!!! let me know your thoughts! :D


	10. prince eduardo

"A _prince_?"

Eduardo nods.

"A prince. Like your father is— what, a king or something? A duke?"

"He's a king," Eduardo confirms in a small voice.

"The king of Cordomar."

"Yes."

"Shit," says Mark.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you. I'm really sorry. I just—" Eduardo sighs. "No one knows."

"No one?"

"Well, I assume the Harvard administration does; they saw my application. And my family does, obviously. But... the press doesn't, neither Cordomaran nor American, and I've never told any of my classmates, or... Well, honestly I've never had anyone _to_ tell, so." Eduardo swallows, and meets Mark's eye. "I'm sorry," he says again.

"You're sorry for being a prince?"

Eduardo looks confused for a moment. "No, I'm sorry for— Or yes, maybe? I don't know. Just, I would understand if— if you don't want to keep doing... this." He makes a vague, expansive gesture, a helpless expression on his face.

"But I like doing this," says Mark.

Eduardo frowns slightly.

"Why would I stop liking it just because you're a prince? Don't impoverished commoners generally enjoy dating princes, in fairy tales?"

"This isn't a fairy tale," says Eduardo.

"Close enough," shrugs Mark.

And he stands up, takes Eduardo's face in his hands, and kisses him, right there in the middle of the restaurant.

And Eduardo cries a little, and kisses him back.

***

Mark asks questions over dinner, learns that yes, Eduardo grew up in a palace; yes, he had servants; no, he doesn't wear a crown, just a coronet; yes, he'll become king when his father dies; no, he's not betrothed.

"You really took this much better than I expected you would," muses Eduardo, prodding at his rice with a chopstick. "I thought maybe you'd hate royalty or something."

"Why, because I'm poor?" Mark asks, somewhat amused.

"No," says Eduardo quickly. "Just— a lot of Americans have negative opinions of monarchies, and royals, and—" He shrugs. "I don't know. But I'm glad you don't hate me for it."

Mark lifts his eyebrows. "You worried about this a lot, didn't you?"

"Yes," Eduardo admits, lowering his eyes, and Mark kind of wants to kiss him again.

So he does.

***

They finish dinner and part ways for the night, with plans to meet again after Mark's art history class the following morning.

When Mark returns to his dorm, he finds that Dustin is back from spring break.

"Yo, Mark!" he says, as Mark enters the suite. He looks up from his laptop. "Long time no see."

Mark nods in greeting and sits down at his desk, opening his own laptop. He pulls up theFacebook and gets to work, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of Eduardo.

"How's the website?" asks Dustin.

Mark nods again, distractedly.

"Alright, well, I've got a problem set due tomorrow," Dustin sighs. "So I'll be over here dying if you need me."

"Okay," says Mark. "Oh, I'm dating now, so I might not be around as much," he adds.

Dustin spins around in his chair and gapes. "You're dating?"

"That's what I just said, yes."

"Who?" Dustin asks excitedly. "An alpha?"

"Yes."

"A girl?"

"A guy."

"How'd you meet him?"

"Work."

"Is he hot?"

"Yes."

Dustin pumps his fist in the air. "Mark! This is big!" he says.

Mark just rolls his eyes and refocuses his attention on theFacebook.

"I want to meet him," says Dustin. "Can I meet him?"

"I'm sure you'll meet him."

"What's he like?"

"He's— good," says Mark.

"You're blushing!" Dustin exclaims. "Shit! Mark Zuckerberg is blushing over an alpha! This is the greatest day ever."

"Dustin, calm down," says Mark, trying to type. "And shut up, okay? I need to concentrate." But despite his best efforts, he's smiling.

He seems to be doing that a lot lately, and he blames Eduardo entirely. Eduardo the crown prince of Cordomar.

Mark shakes his head a bit at the thought. Then his mind turns to other, more important things than Eduardo's royal status: the feel of Eduardo's lips and the warmth of his hands and the way his hair sticks up. And Mark finds that he's smiling again, even harder than before.

Fuck.


	11. the test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** nausea and vomit; mentions of urine

The first week back to classes after spring break flies by, a blur of school and work and theFacebook and time spent with Eduardo.

On Friday, Mark gets paid: $256.50.

He sends $200 to his mother as always, which leaves him $56.50 to spend however he wants, because he's already bought heat suppressants this month and the dining halls are open now that spring break is over, so he doesn't have to worry about food.

The first thing he does is pay Eduardo back $1.80 for bus fare.

Then he purchases the overpriced unicorn socks for his sister, along with a birthday card from Walgreens, and mails them home.

He's left with $30.75, which is more than enough to treat Eduardo to dinner somewhere. Which is exactly what Mark intends to do.

***

Eduardo objects to the suggestion at first, but Mark stands his ground.

"You've paid for my meals twenty-three times over the past two weeks," he says. "I owe you."

"You counted?" says Eduardo, and then, more softly, "You don't owe me, Mark."

"Yes I do," Mark tells him. "And it's my money. I can do what I want with it, and I want to take you out for dinner."

Eduardo gives him a look, but Mark just stares back defiantly, his arms crossed.

At last Eduardo lowers his eyes. "You do not owe me," he repeats. "But okay. You can take me out."

***

So on Sunday night, they go out to dinner, to a pizza place where the pizza is served in giant, four-dollar slices. Mark gets pepperoni and Eduardo gets artichoke mushroom something-or-other and they sit down together at one of the rickety little tables, their knees touching underneath.

"I bought my sister those socks," Mark says, biting into his slice. "The unicorn ones."

Eduardo's eyes light up. "That's great!" he says. "I'm sure she'll love them."

"Yeah," says Mark. "They're stupid, but she's only ten. Just turned ten. And she really likes unicorns." He shrugs, and then, before Eduardo can respond, he cuts to the chase: "I've thought about your offer."

"What offer?" asks Eduardo, frowning.

"A thousand dollars," Mark says. "To get theFacebook up and running. I decided I'll take it."

"Oh! Shit, yeah, of course!" says Eduardo, his face breaking into a grin. "I'm so glad!"

"I'll put your name on the masthead," says Mark. He looks away. "I can't pay you back, I don't know if I'll ever be able to pay you back, but—"

"Mark, it's a gift, okay? Like an investment."

"An investment," Mark repeats. He can live with that.

Eduardo reaches across the table and takes Mark's hand. Squeezes it gently. "I can write you a check whenever you want," he says.

"How about tomorrow?" says Mark.

Eduardo nods. "Tomorrow it is." And he smiles at Mark, and Mark smiles back.

***

That night, Mark lies in bed and imagines theFacebook as a live, functioning website, popular on Harvard's campus and beyond, successful beyond even his wildest expectations.

It's not the first time he's imagined it, of course. But it's the first time that it's felt like more than just a pipe dream.

***

***

Mark wakes up the next morning to the scent of Dustin, which is strange, because Dustin is a beta; he doesn't have a scent. Except suddenly he does: a light, neutral scent, sure, but definitely a scent.

"Are you wearing cologne?" Mark asks, sitting up in bed.

Dustin glances over and tilts his head to the side. "No. Why?"

"Nothing," says Mark. "Never mind."

He gets dressed, grabs his backpack, and heads to the Kirkland dining hall to meet Eduardo for breakfast. But no sooner has he stepped through the doors than his nose is met with a barrage of different smells— food and alphas and betas and omegas all at once: soft, heady, sweet, sour, musky, floral… It's almost nauseating. 

Actually it _is_ nauseating. 

Mark's stomach lurches, and he quickly exits the dining hall, runs to the nearest trash can, and vomits.

He wonders if he got food poisoning somehow. But that wouldn't explain the heightened sense of smell. That would be a symptom of… what? Well, heat, he thinks. Heat and pregnancy.

Unbidden, his thoughts drift back to that fucking broken condom from two weeks ago, which—

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Mark squeezes his eyes shut and vomits again, hard.

Then he straightens up, takes a deep breath, and sets off across the quad.

***

The closest dollar store is a Dollar Tree on Somerville Avenue, a fifteen-minute walk from Kirkland. Mark heads off in that direction, his stomach still churning, his hands clenched tightly around the straps of his backpack.

He can smell every person he passes, which makes his head swim, and a few times he feels bile rise in his throat. But, by some miracle, he manages not to vomit again.

He's halfway to the store when his cell phone starts buzzing with a call from an unfamiliar number. He ignores it. 

But then the person calls again, and again, and finally, Mark picks up.

"Hello?" he snaps.

"Mark?" comes Eduardo's voice. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I texted Dustin and he said you left for breakfast like ten minutes ago. But I'm here at the dining hall and you haven't showed up."

"I remembered I needed to do something," Mark says vaguely, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Needed to do what?"

"Nothing," says Mark. "I have to go."

"Wait, Mark—"

Mark flips his phone closed and slides it back into his pocket.

He kind of feels like crying.

By the time he reaches the dollar store, he _is_ crying.

He pauses outside the door, wiping his eyes, trying to get a grip on himself. Then he steps inside.

***

It takes him a while to find the pregnancy tests, but at last he does: pink boxes for female omegas, purple for female betas, and blue for male omegas. The omega ones claim to work as soon as fourteen days after conception. It's been fifteen days since the condom broke.

Mark grabs one of the blue boxes and heads to the register, where the cashier is an omega who smells so strongly of lavender that it makes Mark gag a little.

He pays without meeting her eye, snatches up the box, rushes over to the trash can by the door, and pukes.

Then, blushing furiously, he leaves the store without a backward glance.

***

He considers heading back to his dorm, but Eduardo might be there. Plus, he doesn't really want to wait that long to know.

He decides to find a restaurant or a store or something and just take the test there. As he walks, he reads the instructions on the back of the box:

_1\. Collect urine sample in a clean, dry glass or plastic cup._  
_2\. Remove testing device from sealed foil pouch and place on a level surface._  
_3\. Use dropper provided to collect urine from cup and place exactly 3 drops in collection well marked by arrow on testing device._  
_4\. Read test results after 3 minutes._

Mark looks at the little diagram provided, and the explanation of results. One line means negative, two lines mean positive.

Okay, he thinks. He can do this. 

He passes a Starbucks, takes a deep breath, and enters. He asks the barista for an empty cup, then heads to the bathroom and locks himself inside.

First he opens the box and sets the plastic testing stick down on the top of the toilet paper holder. Then he pees in the cup and follows the instructions from the box: with the test on a level surface, put three drops in the collection well, and wait three minutes.

He stares at his phone the whole time he waits, not daring to look at the test, just watching as the time turns from 10:32 to 10:33 to 10:34 to 10:35. Three minutes.

He picks up the test.

And there in the result window are two bright blue lines.

***

Mark is pregnant.


	12. positive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning:** mentions of abortion

Mark wraps up the testing stick in toilet paper, puts it back in the box, and shoves the box into his backpack. Then he flushes away his pee, washes his hands, and leaves the Starbucks bathroom, those two blue lines imprinted on his retinas.

***

He should call Eduardo, he thinks, as he walks back toward campus. He takes out his cell phone, but he can't quite bring himself to press the button.

He tries to imagine what Eduardo's response would be, tries to envision how _he_ would respond, if he were in Eduardo's position. If he were a prince and some pathetic guy he'd known for two weeks and fucked one time called to tell him he was pregnant with his baby.

He'd probably be pissed beyond belief.

So he slips his phone back into his pocket.

For a while he trudges along, his eyes cast downward, trying not to think about anything except the gum stains on the sidewalk and the wind on his face. But then he feels tears welling up in his eyes, and he pulls out his phone again. Hesitates. Puts it away.

He needs to get a grip on himself. He can't call Eduardo and start fucking _crying_ or anything stupid like that. He needs to stay calm, to focus on the facts, which are: Mark is pregnant, it's Eduardo's, and he's scared out of his mind.

No, not that last part. Mark frowns. 

He's pregnant and it's Eduardo's. That's all he has to say. He can say that without crying, right?

***

He's nearly back to Kirkland when he finally does it, finally makes the call.

Eduardo answers on the first ring. "Mark?" He sounds mildly frantic.

"Where are you?" Mark asks.

"I'm still in the dining hall; what about you; is everything okay?" Eduardo asks in a rush.

"I'm pregnant," says Mark.

He counts the seconds of silence that follow. One, two, three, four—

"What?" whispers Eduardo.

"I'm pregnant," Mark repeats. "I just took a pregnancy test and it was positive."

"Is it— I mean— from when we—"

"From when we fucked and your condom broke? Yes, of course," Mark says brusquely. He sits down on a bench in the quad.

"Okay. Okay, that's okay," says Eduardo, but his voice is shaking. "We'll figure it out, alright? Are you at your dorm? I can be there in a second—"

"I'm on a bench outside the dining hall," says Mark, staring up at a tree overhead. There are little buds on it. He looks away.

"Alright, I'm just putting away my plate," Eduardo tells him. "Stay right there, okay?"

"Why would I move?"

Eduardo doesn't answer, maybe doesn't even hear. Mark can make out the sound of dishes clattering on the other end of the line. "Okay," Eduardo says then. "Okay, I'm leaving the dining hall. Oh, I see you."

Mark turns around, and sure enough, there's Eduardo, in a three-piece suit, running toward him. Mark flips his phone closed, stands up, and lets Eduardo take him in his arms.

"I'm sorry," Eduardo says into Mark's shoulder. "This is my fault. I'm so sorry. You know I'll support you no matter what, right?"

Mark just sort of stands there stiffly and allows himself to be hugged. His mind feels blank. Eduardo doesn't seem angry, is all he can think, and he smells so fucking good, so fucking strong.

"Mark?" says Eduardo, taking a step back and holding Mark by the shoulders. "Are you alright?" His eyes are wide and wet, like he's about to cry.

"I'm fine."

"Okay. Come here, let's sit down," says Eduardo, gesturing toward the bench.

Mark nods, and they sit down side by side. Eduardo puts his arm around Mark. It feels nice.

For a few moments, neither of them speak.

Then Eduardo asks, softly, "Have you thought about— about what you want to do?"

"No. I don't know. I—" Mark wills himself not to cry. "I think it would be idiotic to keep it."

Eduardo nods slowly.

"But then..." Mark swallows. "I don't know," he mumbles.

"It's alright," says Eduardo, rubbing Mark's back. "You have time to decide. And I'll pay for everything, either way; so you don't have to worry about the financial aspect, okay?"

Mark looks at him, unimpressed. "You do realize there's a difference between paying for an abortion and paying for a child, don't you?"

"Of course, but—" Eduardo seems to hesitate. "Mark, I have money," he says at last, earnestly.

Mark wonders, for a moment, about the net worth of the Cordomaran royal family. Millions? Billions? 

But it doesn't really matter, does it? "Money doesn't raise a kid," Mark says.

"No, I know that," says Eduardo quickly. "I wasn't saying it does."

"Okay, so then do you want this baby or not?"

At that, Eduardo frowns. "It's not my decision," he says. "I'll support you no matter what you decide. But I can't decide for you."

Mark considers this for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he unzips his backpack and withdraws the blue pregnancy test box. He hands it to Eduardo, watches as Eduardo opens it up and pulls out the toilet paper bundle. He unwraps it carefully and stares down at the little white stick, his lips pressed together, his brow furrowed.

"I'm nineteen," says Mark. "We're in college. We've known each other for all of fifteen days."

Eduardo nods down at the test, at those two fucking blue lines.

"A baby would be a very bad idea," Mark goes on, speaking to himself as much as to Eduardo.

"Okay," Eduardo says, with another little nod. He looks up at Mark. "Then you don't have to have a baby." 

"I know."

Eduardo gives him a small, reassuring smile. Then he wraps the test back up, replaces it in the box, and sets it down on the bench. "Come here, Mark," he says, pulling Mark close. Mark rests his head on Eduardo's shoulder.

Minutes pass. Mark inhales Eduardo's scent— the heady, overpowering smell of ocean cliffs and rainy days. And of peace, and solidity, and... home.

"Eduardo," he says at last. He's surprised at how small his voice sounds.

"Hmm?"

"I think I want the baby."

Eduardo turns his head a little.

"I don't know why I want it," Mark admits. "I just do."

Eduardo squeezes Mark's shoulder, kisses Mark's hair.

"Is that... okay?" asks Mark.

"Of course it's okay."

"We'll have to withdraw from school, probably."

"We can do that."

"Fuck," says Mark, and he starts to cry. "How are you so calm about this?"

"I've always wanted kids," Eduardo shrugs. "And there's no one I'd rather have one with than you."

Which makes Mark cry even harder. "That's so fucking cheesy," he sobs, burying his face in the shoulder of Eduardo's suit.

"I love you," says Eduardo.

_Fuck you, no you don't_, thinks Mark. _You only met me two weeks ago, and you're a prince, and I'm dirt fucking poor, and—_

"I love you too," Mark says softly, hiccuping. He wipes his eyes and sniffs.

And then Eduardo kisses him, deep and gentle and comforting. 

Mark breathes him in.

There's a bird singing nearby.

And maybe it's stupid, but as he kisses Eduardo back, Mark feels strangely certain that together, they're going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayy thanks for reading!! comments are appreciated more than words can say!


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